


Reeling

by lipservice (thescariestadverbs)



Series: Raw and Reeling [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Implied Self-Harm, M/M, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescariestadverbs/pseuds/lipservice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what he’s created with all his pushing. This angry shell of a man with no fight left in him. </p><p>This follows along the same timeline as Raw but from a different perspective. You don't need to have read Raw to read this one and they can be read in any order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reeling

**Author's Note:**

> This follows along the same timeline as Raw. This is just Dean's perspective of it while Raw is Cas's. You don't need to read Raw to read this one but I think they go well together!

_why are you striving these days_  
 _why are you trying to earn grace_  
 _why are you crying_  
 _let me lift up your face_  
 _just don't turn away_

_why are you looking for love_  
 _why are you still searching_  
 _as if I'm not enough_  
 _to where will you go child_  
 _tell me where will you run_  
 _to where will you run_

_'cause I'll be by your side wherever you fall_  
 _in the dead of night whenever you call_  
 _and please don't fight these hands that are holding you_  
 _my hands are holding you_  
\- Tenth Avenue North - By Your Side

He’s been on edge so long he doesn’t even remember what calm feels like. Maybe he’s never felt it before. He’s never felt quite like this before either. He feels strung out and twitchy, like a junkie itching for a fix but it’s not quite the same. 

Everything went wrong so damn fast he doesn’t even know where to start, where to blame. Cas never told them what happened, just that he wasn’t an angel anymore. And so what if he isn’t? It’s not like that’s all they needed him for. He has to wonder, though, if maybe some of this is fault. Maybe he pushed too hard and took too much. 

They don’t talk as they drive. Sam’s half asleep in the passenger seat anyway and Dean’s in no mood for conversation. He’s on his last nerve, itching to get out of the car, itching to go back home. But he won’t go home without Cas, not this time. 

The lead came from a friend of a friend of a friend who saw the rental car two days ago. Sam shook his head, telling Dean that Cas didn’t want to be found, not yet. 

Dean never was any good at patience. 

Why should he be? 

All his stress, his anger, his conviction, they all die down when he sees the car. The rental car they’ve been searching for for months. His breath catches in his throat and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, “Sammy,” he chokes out. It’s meant to be a whisper but it’s strangled and he has to clear his throat to speak, “Sam.” 

Sam blinks the sleep from his eyes and sits up, “is that it?” he asks even though they both know it is. Right make, right model, right license plate. 

He has to let Sam unlock the door. His hands are shaking and his throat is dry no matter how many times he swallows. He’s not sure what to expect when Sam reaches for the knob. Somehow he nods and Sam opens the door. 

The room is small and disgusting. He usually went for cheaper rooms when he was on a hunt with Sam but never this cheap. There seems to be a layer of grime coating everything. Sam pulls a chair out from the small table by the door but changes his mind when he sees the cushion. He grimaces as he pushes it back. 

Dean hears the shower turn off and he braces himself. 

Cas steps into the room in a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt. He’s barefoot and his hair is wet and Dean can’t breathe looking at him. 

“You found me,” Cas says coolly.

“Of course we did,” Dean’s surprised to find his voice. He wants to step forward, to grab Cas and hold him so tightly he can never run again but he’s stuck to the floor.

“I told you, I don’t want to be a part of this anymore,” Cas tugs at his shirt. His eyes are shifting between Sam, Dean and the door. Sam, Dean and the door. He’s shaking where he stands.

“You can try,” Dean gestures towards the door, “but I promise you won’t make it this time,” he stares at Cas’s collarbones, sharp and protruding. They look like they are ready to pierce through the skin barely stretched across them. Dean swallows again, “for fuck sakes’, Cas, when is the last time you ate something?”

Cas shrugs. Sam, Dean and the door. 

“I’ll go get some food,” Sam sighs. Dean’s almost forgotten Sam was standing beside him. 

Dean’s glued to the floor. He’s watching Cas run a bony hand through his wet hair and sit on the bed. He’s still looking at the door, shaking like a scared animal looking for a place to hide. “Go,” Cas says unsteadily, “please go. I’m out. I’m not part of this anymore.”

Something inside Dean snaps at that. He slams his hand against the wall so hard it hurts and the person next door slams back, “don’t you get it? You’ll always be a part of this. You can’t just walk away from it.” 

Cas sighs, “of course I can,” he says emotionlessly, “and I did.” 

Dean shakes his head, finding his footing he walks towards the bed cautiously, “it’s not just demons hunting you anymore, Cas, it’s everyone. The angels are mobilizing. They blame you. They blame us. We have to stick together. We - we’re family,” his voice breaks as he sits down. 

He doesn’t get an answer though, because once again Cas is staring at the door. Dean reaches out to grab Cas’s hand but Cas pulls away before he gets a chance. This is what he’s created with all his pushing. This angry shell of a man with no fight left in him. 

“You’ll be safe at the bunker, we all will be. Until we know what to do,” he tries again and this time Cas doesn’t pull away. 

It’s then that he sees them. The angry red scars crawling up the pale white arm. Some are dark, still scabbed. Others are pink and silvery, like faded memories of broken feelings. He can’t breathe when he sees them. There’s a lump, thick and heavy in his throat blocking his airway and he can’t breathe. 

He can feel the bile bubbling and rising in his stomach and he does everything he can not to retch. He wants to reach out and run a finger along each scar like maybe love could heal them, make them go away, but he can’t move. He doesn’t feel the tears until they drip onto his hand. He blinks and looks up to meet Cas’s eyes. 

They’ve never looked so empty. He’d rather look at the scars. He’s painfully aware of the dead weight of Cas’s hand in his. It’s warm, familiar but there is no reaction when he squeezes it. There is no reaction when he runs his thumb over the palm. When he tries to lace his fingers through. 

He tries to swallow the lump but it’s persistent. There’s this overwhelming sense, desire even, to wrap his arms around Cas, to shield him from what’s coming, to protect him from what already has. How do you fix something you broke without realizing it? How do you shake the defeat? How do you undo months, years, of pushing and demanding and hurting in five minutes in a dirty motel room? 

The kiss starts before he realizes it. He grabs Cas’s neck and goes for broke. He’s trying to put so much emotion, so many words into one fleeting moment that it’s almost more than either of them can bare. And still he urges it deeper. He can’t tell who’s giving and who’s taking. He can’t tell his own lips from Cas’s, except for the taste of toothpaste on Cas’s. 

Cas pushes him back roughly. He’s panting and staring and Dean doesn’t know what to do. He’s not ready to give up, not this time. He grabs Cas by the shoulder and starts to lay him down, sliding him up to the top of the bed. The TV is loud, distracting, buzzing about some product or another but Dean tries to focus. 

It’s easy to forget everything they’ve been through when he’s laying on the bed with Cas’s body underneath him. At least, until he realizes how easy it is to feel Cas’s ribs. He swallows his moan when he feels Cas’s hip bones as he arches up. He hadn’t realized how skinny Cas had been getting. 

His eyes snap open and a familiar clicking noise. 

“I have to go. You understand, I have to go,” Cas slips out from underneath him while he tries to catch his bearings. He’s reaching blindly, pulling at his arm.

He handcuffed him to the fucking bed. “Cas, don’t do this,” his throat is raw and rough and he’s trying not to snap. Cas kisses him on the forehead. He reaches out and grabs Cas’s arm, trying to pull him back onto the bed. He’s got almost no momentum and Cas easily twists out of his grasp.

“I’m not Cas anymore.” Cas says, defeated. He’s pulling at the skin around his wrist, he’s tugging and twisting it so hard Dean is surprised there isn’t a bruise, “don’t you see? I’m human now. This is my punishment for everything, Dean. I’m human now. I don’t get to be happy. I’m stuck in this body, in this world. I don’t care who’s coming. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.”

There is a clang as Dean tugs at the cuffs. He can feel his shoulder start to separate as he tries to turn around to watch Cas, to see him, “we can fix this,” he pleads, tears running down his cheeks, “we can fix everything, Cas.” 

“Can’t you see what happens when we try to fix things? Don’t you see what we’ve done?” Cas grabs his bag from the floor, “goodbye, Dean,” he says shakily and walks out the door.

Dean starts pulling wildly at the cuffs, he’s pulling and screaming and shaking when Sam walks in the door. He’s calling out for Cas and simultaneously trying to rip his arm off at the same time. He’s sobbing and cursing and begging and he’s so tangled up on the bed that he can’t even figure out how to sit up. 

Sam waits patiently until Dean relaxes before he pulls out the key and unlocks the cuff. The truth is, as Sam sees it anyway, that Dean needed this. He needed to let it out. He needed to see what they had done. Dean’s arm drops into his lap with a loud slap. He sits there for a moment, reeling. “We have to go,” he says calmly. He stands up and walks steadily to the door, “either you are in or you are out, Sam, but we have to go before he gets too far away.” 

“I should drive,” Sam says, he can see it, the raw devastation. The bloodshot eyes and dried tears. The mark around his wrist from pulling at the cuffs too hard. What’s the point in saving the world if Dean and Cas aren’t in it? 

Dean’s in no position to argue. He feels drained, empty. His shoulder is throbbing and his head is worse. He slips into the passenger seat quietly, he doesn’t make a comment about the radio station Sam picks or the way Sam hits the brake a little too hard. No, instead he just leans his head against the window, relishing the feeling of the cool glass on his forehead and he stares out the window. 

He watches the day break, with it’s red sky and red sun. He watches the storm brew, every raindrop complimenting his already foul mood. How could he have been so stupid? He opened the door to something none of them were ready for. He kissed Cas, for crying out loud, he kissed Cas and Cas just used that as another way to escape. 

“Maybe we should go home,” he says softly. He’s looking out the window, talking to the rain.

“So that’s it?” Sam glances over, “you’re just going to give up?” 

“You didn’t want to follow him in the first place,” Dean’s calm, pensive, “you said it yourself, he doesn’t want to be found. We’re wasting time.” 

Although it isn’t particularly helpful Sam snaps, “like hell. Are you blind? He needs us, Dean. He needs us now more than he ever has.” 

Dean scoffs and watches a raindrop slide down the windshield. He should be used to this by now, this feeling of being left behind. It was always his destiny to be the last one standing over the graves of every person he ever loved. People have been walking out on Dean Winchester his whole life, why did he think Cas would be any different? 

“You and Cas,” Sam’s frustration simmers, “you don’t see the whole picture, Dean. We’re family, and Cas needs us so we’re going to go.” He slams his foot down on the petal and the car lurches before accelerating, “now get out the fucking map and start figuring out where he went.” 

He starts to argue but there is something in Sam’s tone that stops him short. He pulls out the map and stares at it blindly for a moment before saying, “North, I guess. I think he’d go North. but if you go East and then North it will be quicker”

The ride is tense. They switch somewhere in the middle of the day and Sam takes a nap in the backseat. It’s a short lived reprieve, because Sam only sleeps a few hours and when he wakes up he’s in a worse mood than when he went to sleep. They continue like that for three days, alternating who’s driving, who’s pretending to sleep, not a handful of words between them. 

It’s Sam who spots the rental. Dean’s laying in the back, facing the seat pretending to be asleep when he sees it, “we found him,” he says, surprised, “Dean, wake up. We found him.” 

The quiet is different now. Dean climbs into the front seat and stares at the bumper of the car two cars ahead of them. Sam signals to move over but Dean stops him, “wait,” he clears his throat, “wait until he stops.” 

It’s two excruciating hours before Cas starts to pull over. He turns down a winding side road and comes to a stop near a small river. He’s standing beside it when they pull up. Dean inhales sharply, almost frozen to his seat, staring when Sam jostles him and they approach together.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Cas calls out without looking at them. 

“Yeah, well, neither should you,” Dean responds, none of them should be there. He shakes his head, they should be home, safe at the bunker. Where nothing could find them. Or Cas. Doesn’t he understand what’s coming from him? There is a holy war with an unholy wrath about to come down upon them and they have to go through all of this again, “I’m getting tired of this game, Cas,” he snaps. 

“It’s no game,” Cas is cool, collected. He still doesn’t turn around. He’s staring, just past the water. Whatever he can see, Dean can’t. 

Sam holds up his hand and steps forward, “c’mon, we need you.”

Cas looks down and scuffs his shoe, “no, you need Cas. Or an angel. I am neither.” 

All the frustration Sam’s been holding down starts to come up and he laughs bitterly, “you really think you are the only one who’s lost something here?”

Dean looks between them, “Sam,” he hisses. 

“You really think the only way we would want you around is because you were an angel? Look around you, there are no angels anymore. That’s on you, I get that, but we are still at war, Cas. The war doesn’t end just because you say it does.” Sam’s doing everything he can to keep his voice steady, “we don’t get to walk away, Cas. We never will. We are part of it. We gave up our lives a long time ago. What makes you think you get to keep yours?”

Dean grabs his brother’s arm, “that’s enough, Sam.”

Sam throws his hands up in the air, “no it’s not, Dean, but he doesn’t care. They aren’t just coming for you, they are coming for all of us. We have a better chance together. You think just because you can’t kill a demon with a single touch that you’re useless to us? Welcome to the club, cos I can’t do it anymore either.” Sam shrugs Dean off and reaches into the waistband of his jeans pulling out his gun.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean grabs for Sam’s arm.

Sam moves out of the way and meets Cas’s eyes. He doesn’t raise the gun, he couldn’t raise a gun to Cas. It’s cool in his hand as he turns it over and looks at it. He knows Cas wants him to bring it up. Sam can see it now, the anger riding through Cas, the self-hatred and blame. The darkness treading so close to the surface. Cas wants him to end it, to end it all right here, right now. Sickened, he tosses it towards Cas and turns around, “he wants to be on his own, fine, I can’t do this anymore,” he says to Dean, defeated, and he stalks back towards the car. 

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it. You’re so goddamned angry, and I get it cos I would be too. We can’t change what happened and we can’t walk away from this. Not yet,” Dean says evenly, he tries to meet Cas’s eye but Cas is too focused on the gun at his feet. He sighs and follows his brother. 

Sam’s sitting in the passenger seat flipping through the map. Dean can see the tension running through his brother and he leans against the driver’s side door, giving Sam some space. He can see Cas holding the gun, testing it. It seems like hours, but it’s maybe less than ten minutes, before Cas tucks the gun in his waist and starts to walk towards him. 

Cas reaches out towards him slowly, grasping at his shoulder. He can feel something rock through him before Cas shoves him back against the car roughly, kissing him. It’s the kind of kiss with so much emotion behind it Dean doesn’t know where to start when Cas pulls away, “you aren’t going to cuff me to the car this time, are you?” 

“I don’t know who I am,” Cas backs off, looking down, “why am I here, Dean? Why am I still here?” 

“I don’t know,” Dean pulls him back, close enough to feel Cas’s breath on his cheek. He can smell the sweetness of Cas’s skin and he closes his eyes and just takes a second to breathe him in. 

“I should be dead.”

“I should be too. Why did you bring me back?” Dean presses his lips to Cas’s forehead, holding them there. 

He doesn’t expect Cas to lean into it but he does, “you have a purpose. This world needs you.”

Dean pushes off the car and pulls Cas in simultaneously, he shoves everything he can into the kiss. He wraps an arm possessively around his thin waist and runs his free hand through Cas’s hair and down around his neck. He kisses him harder than he's ever kissed anyone. It's the feeling of Cas's skin beneath his hands, the taste of Cas's lips beneath his own, it's so much and not enough all at the same time. He wants more than this, more for all of them. He wants more than a stolen kiss in a dirty motel room. He’s panting when he finally lets go, “maybe it needs you too,” he says, “we need you, Cas,” he reaches over and opens the door to the back seat, “are you ready?”


End file.
